


the arbitrary discretion of the universe

by cunttwatula



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Manga Spoilers, Minor Sasha Blouse/Connie Springer, themes of death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 14:18:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12014541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cunttwatula/pseuds/cunttwatula
Summary: In a cottage by the sea Armin and Jean have made their home. It is there that they plan for their future, come what may.





	1. the cottage by the sea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Flenser](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flenser/gifts).



> Hey there party people!
> 
> This is something I've been working on for a really great friend of mine. I think I've told the story before, but we actually met through the Jearmin fandom and since then I've been luck enough to have Flens in my life. I've really hyped this fic up to her and hope I can deliver. 
> 
> If you've read my fics before you know I don't tag for plot spoilers in my work. That being said please message me on [tumblr](cunttwatula.tumblr.com) if you have questions about the particulars contained in this fic. But, I'm not a monster and will let you know that there are spoilers for chapter 84 and beyond, however the fic mostly deals with the future consequences of that chapter
> 
> Admittedly, I'm not caught up on the manga so I've taken a lot of liberties with my story telling. Oh, and the banner looks better on the [tumblr](http://cunttwatula.tumblr.com/post/165039020341/title-the-arbitrary-discretion-of-the-universe) post.
> 
> One last thing, Flens, this story was born from a conversation we had - so half of this is your fault.

 

 

Their cottage sits on a grassy plain overlooking the ocean. The plain doesn’t erode to a beach, as the shore does a bit down ways, instead the water hits the tiny cliff, sending up a cool spray. It’s summer, their fourth since they’ve left the military and the sixth since the fall of the titans.

Armin straightens out his back and rolls his shoulders to ease the tension that has built while hunched over in the garden. Some of his hair has fallen loose and so he sweeps is up again, streaking it with soil. If it were up to him, he’d chop it off. Maybe he’d even buzz it down a bit at the edges. With a sigh his arms drop to his side.

He knows he won’t cut it, Jean likes it long and Armin likes that Jean likes it. He enjoys having Jean’s fingers in it, in any manner of ways. Playful in the mornings while they get ready, a teasing yank telling Armin to turn his head and accept Jean’s kiss. Gentle in the evenings when they sit at their hearth and Jean brushes it, tangles it up, and brushes it out again. And demanding in the evenings, when they remember their time is fleeting, even without the promise of death that war brings.

The desperate nature of those moments is precious to him, he’s always thought of it as Jean’s way of trying to steal him back from death’s kiss, or to maybe forget death is a lover closer to Armin than Jean could ever be. Mark him, claim him, keep him, worship him. Let him know that he won’t be let go. That Jean won’t leave him, that he won’t relent even in the face of inevitability.

 

* * *

 

_It’s their first true day off in months. After facing the shifters at Shiganshina there hasn’t been much time to rest. They are regrouping while planning their next move. Armin’s been distant in the past few weeks, enough so even Jean feels it through his general social density. The squad has taken up residence at an inn, drinking their reserves dry and breaking furniture as the night progresses. When Armin stands to excuse himself, Jean’s eyes follow until he’s out the door. He chugs the rest of his beer and grabs his jacket as he hurries out after him._

_Armin is quicker than he thought, even so Jean sets a course for the barracks. As he approaches Armin’s room he notices the faint flicker of a candle from beneath the door, and then it goes out. For a moment he stops to think that maybe he should leave Armin alone, it is late after all. But there’s a clawing in his chest that misses them. They’d never said they were anything, but the explorative touches in the dark of the supply wagons and stolen kisses when it felt like it was only them in the world - those hadn’t been nothing._

_He knows if he doesn’t just go in Armin won’t open the door. It’s with this thought that he enters Armin’s quarters, mindful enough that the door makes no sound. In the darkness Armin sobs, his breath hitching up around his inhales. “Armin,” Jean calls._

_There’s a sharp intake of breath. “Jean?” The bedside lamp comes on a moment later, dim, but warm. Armin sits up, dragging the blankets with him. “What are you doing here?”_

_“I - I just -,” He falters. “I wanted to see you.”_

_Armin wipes stubbornly at his eyes. “We just saw each other at the pub.”_

_“I know, but -,” Jean grimaces. Armin is the one between them who can articulate his feelings._

_“I - I’m tired. I just want to be alone.” Armin won’t meet his gaze, his eyes search for something to lock onto._

_He’s tired of these games, Jean steps forward and comes to his knee at the side of Armin’s bed. He grabs Armin’s forearm, tone from years of training, but still slight by nature. “Why do you keep avoiding me?”_

_“I’m not,” Armin argues with him, his voice weak from crying._

_“Then why won’t you look at me?”_

_Armin turns to meet Jean’s gaze head on, he shakes his head in defiance. “You’re exaggerating.”_

_“Prove it.” Jean leans forward, Armin leans away. His hand moves to the back of Armin’s head, it cradles the base of Armin’s skull gently, but with enough strenght to keep Armin from retreating to far._

_If Armin wants to resist Jean won’t fight, he’ll drop his hand away and let him. He leans forward again, for a moment Armin presses away, but then he stops. Their lips meet and Armin’s whole body relaxes. Jean’s hands travel under Armin’s sleep shirt, feeling the fit muscles of Armin’s back as he lavishes Armin’s neck with what are sure to be bruises come morning. His mouth drops open for Jean, asking to be ravished. Jean noses up the side of Armin’s face. “I’ve missed you, angel.”_

_Armin tenses and pushes Jean away. “Don’t.” Armin’s voice is so soft it’s almost a whisper._

_“Why?” Jean tries to catch Armin’s gaze. When he can’t he raises his hand to Armin’s chin, trying to coax him into meeting his eyes._

_He closes his eyes and shakes off Jean’s touch. “Please.”_

_Jean’s arms drop to his knee. “Are you angry with me?”_

_Armin bites his lip, shakes his head_

_His stomach feels like it will be sick, “Do you - Do you not like me any more?”_

_“No,” Armin’s voice is urgent, but tight. “Nothing like that.”_

_“Then what is it?”_

_Armin doesn’t speak, which is the most frustrating part of this whole exchange. He’s never been the type to hold his tongue when it mattered._

_His heart hurts in ways he didn’t even know it could. It splinters down to jagged parts that threaten to rub him raw from the inside out. “I love you,” Jean whispers the words between them like a confession from the grave._

_Armin’s lips roll together into a tight line and his eyelids squeeze together. Tears manage to find their way through his lashes as he shakes his head back and forth. A tiered sob escapes him. “No, Jean. Please don’t say that.”_

_“But, it’s true. I can’t help it.”_

_Another sob and Armin wipes his eyes. “I - I’m dying, Jean. You can’t love me. I’m only going to hurt you.”_

_Jean takes Armin’s hand in both of his. He kisses Armin’s fingertips, a calming gesture. His eyes find their way back to Armin’s, blue like the sky. “We’re all in danger of dying Armin. The war isn’t over.” He pauses, “Do you love me?”_

_Another sob, but Armin nods._

_“If I die our next time out on a mission will you regret it? Will you regret loving me?”_

_“No,” Armin’s answer slips from his throat._

_“Then what makes you think I will regret loving you?”_

_Jean comes up to sit next to Armin on the mattress. “I’ll love you as long as you’ll let me.” He drops his face and kisses away Armin’s tears._

_They don’t move, just stare at each other in the dim candle light. Armin moves first, his arms coming up and pulling away as his brain tries to work out what he's about to do. His left hand brushes Jean’s neck, slipping into the collar of his shirt while his right cradles Jean’s head. He pulls him in and kisses him hard._

_The kiss deepens as their bodies press tighter together. The urgency in which their mouths meet pulls the air from their lungs and ignites their skin until their intensity burns away everything around them._

_“I love you.” Armin sobs as he passes the words in the space between them._

_Jean breathes them in, filling himself until he forgets._

  

* * *

 

Jean steps out of their front door and stops to admire Armin in the garden. He shields his eyes from the sun before wiping away sweat from his brow. He looks so healthy, it’s not fair. Jean had always imagined that Armin would fall ill as the final anniversary of his curse drew near. They’ve known it’s been coming for months, years really. But it’s something they refused to talk about all this time, except in the solemn glances they would catch on each other every now and then, like the one on Jean’s face now.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Armin’s voice cuts through.

His eyes come away from where they had been studying the width of Armin’s ankle. It’s something he’s never noticed before, but seems precious now. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do.” Armin frowns. “You’re looking at me like I’m already dead.”

Jean leans against the door jam. “I just think you should be resting. That’s all.”

Armin throws his gloves down as he gets to his feet, “Resting. Telling me to rest.” He grumbles as he pushes Jean aside to move into their house.

He stands over the sink, his fingers gripping the edge as he stares out the window. In the distance he can see where the shore becomes sandy and soft. He loves that part of the beach. They walk there in the evenings, hand in hand, and the cool water foaming at their feet.

“You have to stop doing this,” Armin says when he can feel Jean behind him.

Jean grabs the outside of Armin’s bicep, his nose runs gently along Armin’s nape. “I worry. It’s soon and I just - I -”

“You what?” Armin turns around, allowing Jean’s body to pin him to the sink. “Think if I stay still it won’t happen?”

Jean looks away, he hates fighting about this. “We don’t know-”

“That’s exactly it Jean!” Armin crosses his arms. “We _don’t_ know. I’m the first one that’s going to reach the end of the cycle and nobody knows what that means. Or how it will happen. I know this more than anyone! So, just let me live my damn life however I want until then.”

Jean's mouth goes tight. “It can’t hurt to slow down.”

They stare at each other, the mounting tension and anxiety palpable. Armin lets out a breath. “Why are we fighting?” Armin steps in close, he pushes his head up under Jean’s chin. A moment later Jean’s arms are around him keeping him together when he’s actually seconds away from falling apart.

“You know why.” Jean drops a kiss on Armin’s head.

Armin takes a shuddering breath. He’s already promised himself he wouldn’t cry. He can’t let that be Jean’s last memory of him. “I’m scared, Jean.”

He pulls Armin tighter. Thirteen days, he thinks to himself. He’s guaranteed at least that much.

 

* * *

 

_Eren is nineteen when he turns to Armin and asks him a single favor. “Let’s end this war. Let’s destroy them before my times up. I don’t want to be eaten by a titan. I fought my whole life to destroy them.”_

_Mikasa’s hand tightens it’s hold on Eren’s. She hasn’t said much since after the last tactical meeting where is was decided that, if it should come to it, if the war should still persist even as Eren approaches death they will pass on the titan curse. He will not live out his natural life, die peacefully and with the dignity he has earned after so many years of trauma. Eren had agreed, he’s a loyal soldier to humanity if nothing else, but it’s not what he wants._

_Armin snatches Eren’s other hand, holding it tight between them. He looks his best friend in the eye and promises, “We will. I won’t let them pass it on.”_

  

* * *

 

_She dies saving a dead man. When Mikasa falls from the battle, her body going limp from the force of the impact, the battlefield goes quiet. Even their enemies have gone silent knowing that a tremendous force has met it’s end._

_The only sounds are the deafening thud as her body hits the ground, followed by her head bouncing off the floor. This woman who had faced death time and time again, had given her last breath to save Eren from a bullet._

_Eren hangs from his 3dm gear, shocked. “Mikasa?” His whispered question echoes in the large cavern. “Mikasa?” He says louder, he makes his way to the ground, skidding his knees against rubble as he makes his landing. He cradles her in his arms lifting her chest to his ear._

_Armin lands on the opposite side of the cavern. His eyes scan the room as they look for some tangible piece of evidence that this is not happening. Beside him, his hands begin to shake until his blades clatter to the ground and pop out of his gear.. His knees give out under the realization that there is nothing he can do. He’s frozen in his own storm of misery._

_Absently, Armin remembers being a child and running alongside Mikasa through the streets of their home town. It’s almost as if it’s happening now. He can hear their laughter over the silence and see three children running through the cavern despite his blurring vision. His tears fall, the children vanish and the laughter gives way to his sobbing._

_In the distance Jean calls for him, but he sounds so far away. He’d give anything to be where Jean is, instead of this terrible place where one of his best friend’s has just died._

_“Mikasa, please.” Eren grinds the words out through his teeth, he lays her on the ground, and his hands come away covered in blood._

_Eren screams, there’s a crack of lightening that blinds the room, followed by the sound of tissue slapping against bone._

_There’s a hard slap to his back that knocks the wind out of him when Jean swoops down to scoop him up off the floor._

_“Armin!’_

_The word doesn’t quite make sense._

_“Dammit!”_

_Oh, he’s upset about something. Anger? Concern? Panic? Which one is it?_

_“We have to get out of here!”_

_There’s an echoing scream as the cave begins to shake. Eren, of course Eren would go off plan and shift even though he’s been told multiple times shifting would compromise the integrity of the cave. Mikasa usually keeps him out of this kind of trouble._

_Armin blinks, the chaos of his surroundings come into focus. Cannons go off in back of the cave in a sorry attempt to stop Eren from destroying the enemy base. Ahead of them their squad mates make their way to the skylight they came in through._

_“Jean -”_

_“Thank fuck. You’re back.”_

_“The center pillar is going to give. We need to get out of here before the roof collapses.” Armin finds the handles of his gear and sends an anchor point ahead. Jean releases him and Armin, swings through the air towards the skylight._

_Another round of cannons go off, this time one misses Eren and flies straight into the central support. A creak echoes through the cave and then slates of rock begin to fall from the ceiling._

_Armin breaks through the falling rubble and tumbles to the ground at the top of the skylight. A quick overview of the panting soldiers on the field tells him only half of them made it. He’s just relieved they made it out at all. Armin sits up suddenly, “Jean!”_

_“Here.”_

_He turns around and Jean is laying in the grass, a few scratches on his face, but nothing serious. Armin crawls over to him and lays his head on Jean’s heaving chest. The memory of Mikasa falling from the sky comes back and Armin squeezes his eyes tight. “She shouldn’t have died here.”_

_Jean strokes Armin’s hair. “I know.”_

_“Out of all of us -” Armin pauses. “She was the only one of the three of us that didn’t have an expiration date. Eren would have most likely healed from a gunshot wound. She didn’t have to -” Armin gasps. “She didn’t have to save him this time, Jean!”_

_“Shh...” Jean’s breath is soothing. “I would have done the same for you. You can’t tell love what to do.”_

_Armin presses his face into Jean’s chest. “I wish I could convince you otherwise.”_

_Jean’s hand stills. “Don’t think too much about it now. Hanji is on her way over. We’ll be people later. We need to be soldiers now.”_

_Armin shakes his head in acknowledgement, but doesn’t move until Jean hauls him to his feet._

_“Armin, Jean,” Hanji forgoes titles. Her face is pinched with hesitation. “Eren hasn’t emerged from the cavern. We need to prepare a retrieval mission for his body and choose a replacement immediately if he doesn’t -”_

_As if on cue Eren’s titan hand grabs at the ledge of the expanded skylight. Dust from the collapse rises around him as he pulls himself onto the field. He brings his face close to the ground and opens his mouth. Mikasa’s body rolls out onto the field, wet and bloody. Eren’s titan body lets out a cloud of steam as it begins to dissolve, preventing anyone from getting too close._

_The cloud clears and Eren sits next to Mikasa, her head and shoulders gathered in his lap. Armin kneels beside him, and turns his face to Eren’s shoulders as new tears spring forth._

_“We have to bury her, Armin.”_

_“Of course.”_

_Eren’s free arm comes across his chest and grabs Armin’s hand. “I didn’t even see the gun. She was all the way across the -” Eren snarls. “Dammit! She shouldn’t have been there! She shouldn’t have protected me!”_

_Armin reaches out and thumbs the buzzed hair on the back of Mikasa’s neck. “You can’t tell love what to do, Eren.”_

 

* * *

 

Armin stands at the edge of the water looking out over the ocean. The sun has been hidden by the approaching storm, dimming the world into a melancholy gray. There’s a burst of light and Armin counts until he hears the thunder that follows.

Jean falls in place behind him, his arms wrap around Armin’s stomach covering them both in the blanket he’s dragged from their house. “How far away is it?”

“Less than two miles.”

“Hmm.” Jean rubs his cheek against the top of Armin’s head. “I was calling you from the house.”

Armin leans back into Jean’s chest, “Sorry. I was distracted.”

“It’s okay. Food will get cold if we don’t get inside.”

“You made dinner?” Armin turns to look over this shoulder at Jean.

“You were distracted.”

They both laugh, Armin elbowing Jean in the side.

“Let’s stay a bit longer.”

Jean’s body relaxes around him, pulling Armin closer and embracing him fully. They stare out over the ocean, watching the impending storm approach. The water grows angrier with each passing moment. It jumps up at the edge of the small cliff and mists against Armin’s face.

It’s truly their own little world out there on the cliff. Armin thinks back to the many nights they have spent laid out under the stars. Bare to each other and whatever higher power that there may be. They are his favorite memories by far. This is the home they have built together, far away from the reminders of their youth and the horror that came with it.

“I want to die here.” He doesn’t turn to gage Jean’s reaction when he says it. It’s a conversation they have been putting off for longer than a decade.

Jean’s chin drops to Armin’s shoulder. “Okay.”

Armin takes a deep breath through his nose. “I want to be buried on our property. Ideally right here overlooking the ocean, but I don’t want you to feel disrespectful when you come sit out here. If not here maybe under the tree to the east.”

For a long moment neither of them says anything more. Jean doesn’t even acknowledge that he’s heard Armin. Jean stands up tall, his hands come to Armin’s shoulders. “Do you want a headstone?”

In the distance Armin can just make out rain falling against the water, churning up more violent waves that knock against the shore. “A small one.”

“What should it read?”

“Armin Arlert. Birthday. Deathday.”

“There’s so much more to say about you.”

Armin snorts. “Of course you’d want to argue about my headstone.”

“Only because I’m the one that has to look at it when you’re gone.”

“What would you have it say?”

Jean shifts around him, loosening the blanket to let in a bit of cool air. “Commander Armin Kirschtein. Savior of Humanity. Incomparable friend. Adequate lover. Birthday. Deathday.”

Armin turns to face Jean. “ _Adequate_ lover?”

“I’ve been mostly satisfied.” Armin frowns at him and he laughs. With a light caress of his fingers he pushes Armin’s hair back from his face. “What about the other part?”

“Which part?”

“Armin Kirschtein.”

Armin’s whole face turns red as he looks away.

“It’s nice to know I can still make you blush after all these years.”

“Oh, hush. Besides, if anything it would be Arlert-Kirschtein.”

“Or just Arlert. I’d be fine with that if we had married.”

“Technically we are.”

Jean’s eyes widen. “What?”

“Common law. We’ve lived together for four years. Technically we’re married by default. We just never filed paperwork to change your name.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think it was important?”

Jean rolls his eyes. “You. Only you would think that.” He leans down and kisses Armin hard. “Armin Kirschtein. Mr. Kirschtein.”

Armin pushes Jean away by his chest when he feels Jean’s hardness pressing into his hip. “You’re insatiable.”

“Only for you.” Jean kisses Armin’s neck. “You’re blushing. Commander Kirschtein.”

“Shut up,” Armin says half heartedly. “Besides I’m older. You’d take my last name.”

Jean stops. The storm is close. “I don’t mind. We belong to each other.”

Armin pushes up on his toes and kisses him. “So, should I call you Squad Leader Arlert?”

Jean scoops Armin up just at the storm hits. He rushes them back inside to the warmth of their house. Despite his earlier reminder, their food goes cold.

 

* * *

 

_The curtains are drawn in Armin’s room at the barracks. A soft light filters through the linen casting a golden tint across Jean’s skin. He looks so peaceful when he sleeps, almost like the young man he was before they first saw true carnage. A mere boy then and a man of twenty-four years now. Armin reaches out his hand and runs the knuckle of his finger over the bridge of Jean’s nose._

_Jean stirs next to him, his eyebrows pull together making three tight lines on his forehead. Armin snuggles in closer, his palm covering Jean’s exposed cheek. Jean whines at the touch, but pushes his cheek into Armin’s hand anyway. His head turns and he kisses Armin’s palm before reluctantly sliding his eyes open._

_“I missed you,” Armin whispers into the stillness. Jean blinks at him, too tired from traveling the day before and insisting on staying up until the early hours of the morning to properly reacquaint himself with Armin._

_“I missed you, too,” he finally says once he’s stretched. “It’s good to be home.”_

_Armin closes his eyes to frame what he wants to say. He can’t tell Jean that all he can think about when he’s away for months at a time is that there’s only four years left before the thirteen year cycle ends. Of course he has his work to keep him distracted, their small group of friends to be with, but it’s all so lacking without him there._

_“Do you ever think about where home could be?”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_Armin shrugs. “The barracks aren’t much of a home. Just a dorm really. We don’t even share the same room technically.”_

_“We’re right down the hall from each other.”_

_“I know. It would just be nice for you to come home to our home. Not the shared home of us and three squads.”_

_Jean props himself up on his side. “That will only happen if we retire from the military.”_

_“Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad idea.”_

_He levels his gaze at Jean and watches as the gears turn in his head. “Okay.”_

_“Really?” Armin smiles, bringing himself to his elbows._

_“Yes. If you wanted me all to yourself you could have just asked.”_

_Armin kisses his teeth and throws a pillow at Jean’s chest._


	2. the mortal man

Jean enters the cottage and stands in the doorway. He rubs the rough weave of paper between his thumb and forefinger as he skims Connie’s latest letter.

“ _Dear Jean and Armin_ ,” Jean mumbles as he reads. “ _Hope this letter finds you well._ So on, so forth. More about the farm. _We know Armin’s time is short. Hope you will make it here before the end. -want to respect Armin’s wishes for a private death.”_ Jean sighs and lowers his arm.

Armin sits at the table writing letters. He’s been doing that more and more lately and while Jean knows they are farewell letter, last words to be immortalized in ink on paper, Armin has not shared them with Jean. His concentration is so deep Armin doesn’t even seem to notice that Jean has returned from collecting the post.

Jean continues the letter. He skips over a few lines and his eyes land on _godparents._ His eyes go wide as he finds the information he’s missed. “ _In wake of the impending tragedy I’ve been putting off mentioning that Sasha and I are with child. She’s due shortly after Armin will leave us, but insists that we ask you both to be the godparents of our little one.”_

Jean beams, “Armin!”

Armin jumps at his name, his hand goes to this chest. “Oh lord. When did you get here?”

“Take a look at this!” He hands Armin the letter and watches as he reads, his eyes going wide towards the end of the page.

He looks to Jean. There’s a twinkle of wonderment in his eye. “A baby? Those two?”

“I know! Isn’t it great?”

Armin’s eyes return to the letter. His face falls. “We won’t make it.” He pushes the letter across the table to Jean. “It takes a week to get there. We don’t -” Armin’s frown deepens. “ _I_ don’t have that kind of time.” He sets the letter down and folds his arms across his chest. “Less than a week.”

Jean swallows and takes a seat at the table. He reaches his hand out to take Armin’s, they don’t speak as the reality of time and inevitability makes itself known.  

 

* * *

 

The anticipation is the worst part. Knowing that the end is around the corner is keeping him up at night, unable to sleep with Armin’s back pushed up against him. He spends those sleepless hours memorizing Armin’s form. The curve of his back, the dip of his neck, the warmth of his skin. He cries a lot in those moments, knowing that come morning Armin will be depending on him to keep them together.

They sit on the couch now, Armin pressed to his side sipping on wine they made themselves. The hearth crackles as it burn. The ashen parts fall away from the core of the logs, changing the landscape of the flames. Armin shifts against him, his head coming to rest against Jean’s shoulder.

“Would you have wanted children?” The fire pops.

“Where did that come from?”

“Does it matter?” Armin’s voice is lacking patience.

“I never really gave it much thought. We’re men.”

Armin frowns. “We could have adopted.”

Jean isn’t sure what he’s supposed to say to that.

“I don’t believe you never thought about it. You’re a bleeding heart.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Armin stands. “Yes it does.” He finishes off his glass of wine. “I’m going to bed.”

It’s automatic when Jean follows him to the bedroom. Armin sits on the edge of the mattress, refusing to acknowledge him. “You knew I’d chase after you. We could have done whatever this is in front of the fire at least.”

Armin ignores him.

“What do you want me to say Armin?” Jean throws his arms away from himself. “Yeah. I’ve thought about it. How could I not?”

“Would you -” Armin stops short and looks up to Jean. “Would you have wanted a boy or a girl?”

The genuine wonder in Armin’s voice hurts Jean in a way he can’t identify. “A girl, I think.”

“Oh,” Armin whispers. For a moment he stares at the opposite wall, seeing something beyond Jean’s perception of reality. He’s been doing that more lately, disappearing into his mind. “Could we have named her Elizabeth?” He looks to Jean. “That was my mother’s name.”

Jean finds himself in Armin’s fantasy. If he closes his eyes he can imagine a slight blond girl running around in the field outside their house. Cataloging ocean animals with Armin, or checking the traps in the forest with Jean. It will never be their future though.

If he’d walked into town that morning and was asked if his heart had ever been broken, he would have said there was nothing left to break. He would have said that his heart had been breaking for more than a decade. Shattering into large jagged pieces that would crash into each other over and over again with the force of anger and dread that has accumulated inside him for the last thirteen years. They’d collide until his heart was nothing but dust to be buried with the man who held it.

He’s wrong of course. There’s more to break. A whole chasm of possible futures that they could’ve had given half a chance.

He wipes at his eyes. “I like that name.” The silence between them is heavy. “Why are you doing this now?”

Armin opens his mouth to speak, but stops short. He takes a shuddering breath. “I never wanted to feel sorry for myself, so I tried to never think about the things we wouldn’t have together. But, it’s all I’m thinking about lately and I need to know that you wanted these things with me too.”

Jean brings both hands to his face, if he looks at Armin for another second any facade of calm he’s been trying to show will crumble. He hears Armin stand and position himself in front of Jean. Armin’s hands come to his wrists and pulls Jean’s hands away from his face.

Armin’s hand cups his cheek. His thumb wipes away the unshed tears from Jean’s eyes. “We won’t -” Armin sobs. He takes a steadying breath. “We won’t cry at the end, but we can cry now.”

His mouth drops open, his bottom lip quivers. Jean’s voice fails him, instead his fingers dig into Armin’s sides with strength he doesn’t need to use.

“Tell me about what you wanted for us.” 

His mouth clenches as a sob escapes the deepest part of him. “I wanted everything.”

 

* * *

 

_“Here.” The caravan comes to a stop at the edge of the large clearing. Armin watches Eren look out across the grass covered expanse._

_“Are you sure?” Hanji comes up beside him. The fog curls around the legs of the horses, thin, but abundant._

_Eren nods. “Yes.”_

_They spend the day making camp, only a handful of people have been invited to Eren’s send off. Only six people will witness the transfer of the titan power, Armin and Jean among them._

_Around noon Armin breaks away from where himself and Jean have been making their camp. Eren didn’t bother to bring a tent, knowing he won’t ever make it to shelter before the eternal sleep. Armin sits beside him in the center of the field. Wordlessly, Eren takes Armin’s hand and squeezes his fingers. Minutes pass, they watch as Hanji, Levi, and a few other cadets they brought for the day plant the giant stakes in the ground._

_“Why here?” Armin turns his head to look at Eren._

_The wind blows through the trees, whistling as it makes it’s way through the branches. “The first time we were allowed leave, Mikasa and I decided to go camping for a few days. We just thought we’d ride until we found a place to make camp. We must have only been seventeen or eighteen. Can’t remember now.”_

_“Where was I?”_

_“Jean took you home to meet his family.”_

_Armin laughs. “I remember that.”_

_“We found this place. We only came that one time, but it was different. We felt different up here.” Eren picks at the grass and rubs the severed pieces into his pants, staining them._

_“Different how?”_

_He looks deep into the foliage, searching for a memory long since past. “I just wondered what it might be like to grow old with her.” He wipes his hands against his pants, uncaring of the damp dirt he leaves on them. “We never got to spend a whole lot of time alone after the military. People always needed us to do shit. We were together, but we weren’t ever on our own.”_

_Eren bites at his cuticles, lost in another thought. “It was like meeting her for the first time, kind of. I didn’t realize how much distance had come between us until I was just sitting next to her. She didn’t seem like my sister anymore. She didn’t feel like my sister. I could remember us as children, scrappy and loud and, well you were there. That wasn’t who she was anymore. She was -” He takes a breath. “She was so much more.” He turns to Armin, eyes on fire with injustice. “When did she become so much more, Armin? How did I miss it? Why didn’t I realize - Why didn’t I tell -”_

_Armin grabs Eren by the shoulders. “She knew. Trust me, Eren, she knew.”_

_Eren snorts and turns away from Armin.  “I never told her. I wanted to, but we already knew what it would come to.” Eren makes a small nod to the large stakes in the ground. “I couldn’t tell her knowing that.” After a moment Eren sighs, “I never appreciated her enough, always had to be the selfish prick. I just let her go, my one selfless act. You know?”_

_Armin closes his eyes, taking the sting of Eren’s words as gracefully as possible. He does know, at times he wishes he had the strength to follow Eren's example. He chances a glance to Jean, he’s finishing their tent. His fringe is plastered to his forehead from the heat and sweat dampens part of his shirt._

_He looks back to what could possibly be his future. Two stakes in the ground and a quaint send off. Part of him is thankful Mikasa didn’t live to see this day. She would have died right along side Eren, maybe not her body, but her soul. He never got the chance to ask her what it was like to love a man who might make it to the end of the war, but would still be a casualty nonetheless. Maybe, she would have told him after Eren went. Maybe, he would have gotten a chance to know that Jean would eventually be okay without him._

_“Hey, lovebirds!”_

_Armin recognizes Jean’s voice and turns._

_“Let’s get drunk and forget about why we’re here.”_

_“We’ll come over in a minute.” Armin turns back to Eren._

_Eren’s Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he swallows. He continues to stare off into the distance, not seeing the real world, but the one he will never live in. “I’m not ready to die, Armin.” A single angry tear rolls down Eren’s cheek. “I didn’t fight my whole life so I could be eaten by Hanji.”_

_Armin squeezes his hand. “You could run.” His words are a whisper._

_“I’m humanity's greatest hope. Maybe I didn’t spend my whole life fighting so I could be eaten, but I did spend it trying to give us a fighting chance.” He looks to Armin. “I just - I needed you to know because you’re the only one who could understand.”_

_Armin hears his pulse in his ears, a biological reminder that his time is ticking away._

 

* * *

 

Jean wakes to a storm, dark clouds hang in the sky skewing the perception of time and casting the world into a gray haze. It could be mid afternoon just as easily as it could be dawn. Rain strikes heavily at the window of their bedroom, as if the heavens have begun to cry from a long time sadness. Despite how the weather sops away all warmth from the world, it’s cozy in their bed. The door is slightly ajar letting in the orange glow of the hearth and the scent of breakfast.

He enters the kitchen rubbing sleep from his eyes, stopping short of the kitchen. Armin doesn’t notice him while he stands at the stove peering at the pancake cooking in the cast iron skillet. Jean leans against the support beam in the center of the open space.

This is the end, Jean thinks as he admires the way the sweater Armin’s wearing pulls up over his thighs. The last time they’ll eat breakfast together. The culmination of thirteen years worth of dread sits heavily in his stomach and, yet, he almost feels like he’s living another person’s life.

Jean shifts away from the support. “Hey.”

Armin glances at him from over his shoulder. “Hey.”

They mold to each other when Jean holds him from behind. His nose drops to Armin’s neck and inhales. He hasn’t slept without Armin’s scent wrapped around him for over a decade, absently he wonders if he’ll notice the first day he wakes and their sheets only smell of him. Will he sleep after that? “Thank you for making breakfast.”

Armin’s mouth pulls into a small smile, as if he’s trying for a sense of normalcy. “I always make breakfast on Sunday.”

Jean watches Armin flip the pancake when the bubbles across the surface have popped. “What do you want to do today?”

“I wanted to walk on the beach, but the storm doesn’t look like it’s going to let up today.” Armin swallows. “It would have been nice to reach the end under the sun with you. No reason for it to be so dark. It’s a natural part of life.”

Armin’s voice is resolute, but Jean sees the tremor in his hand. He reaches out and closes his fingers over Armin’s knuckles. “The sun will come out later.”

“Yeah. Later.” Armin hangs his head and removes the pan from the fire. “Sorry.”

“What for?”

He grabs the edge of the stove and bends forward. “I’m not sure. Everything, probably. I just want today to be like any other Sunday.” Armin stands up straight, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Then let’s sit at the table and eat breakfast.”

Armin turns to looks at Jean, he pushes up on his toes to kiss him. Their lips meet once, then twice, and a third time as Armin turns in Jean’s arms. His kiss lingers and his throat grows tight. Fear is something he always thought he’d feel upon his death, but fear of what? Death is just an ending, not something worth fearing. It’s the simplicity he fears, it’s knowing his time is up and there’s nothing more he can change or offer.

The sudden urgency that overtakes him makes Armin weak in the knees. He finds himself relying on Jean to keep him upright. His lungs burn with the effort of keeping their mouths slotted together. The weight of his body drags them down, his back slides uncomfortably against the knobbed metal stove. He doesn’t complain, his eyes squeeze tight against the pain eating him from the inside out. The tears that escape him crash around them, his sobs dying deep in his throat.

Jean’s mouth moves to Armin’s jaw, dragging the harsh stubble against Armin’s skin. His mouth kisses away Armin’s tears. “Angel. My angel. I love you. I love you so much.” Jean’s voice cracks, the noise breaks Armin. His teeth clench together painfully as a harsh cry is ripped from his throat.

He can’t catch his breath, panic rising in him steadily. They are both lost to the chaos, coming undone at the seams despite the promises they would hold themselves together. Armin’s arm lays over his eyes, “I don’t want to leave you. I just want to be with you a bit longer.”

Jean’s mouth meets him again, accepting Armin’s sadness and sharing his own. “You’ll always be with me.” He puts Armin’s hand on his chest, the tenderness of the gesture softens the edge of their grief. “Can you feel it?”

Armin’s fingertips push against Jean’s rib cage feeling the sparse, but wiry hairs of his chest. Beyond that there’s the steady drum of Jean’s heartbeat. He nods. He doesn’t move his hand away, just stares at where it touches Jean. “How do I know you’ll be okay without me?”

“I’ll never be without you. You’re everywhere Armin.” Jean’s hand comes to his face so he can hold Armin’s gaze. “You’ve taught me so much. Not just academic things, things about myself, too. You taught me what it’s like to love and be loved. Even when you’re not with me I’ll never experience life without you. You’re the wind and earth. The ocean, the moon. You’re everything. You are _my_ everything.”

Armin wipes his eyes and looks to Jean. His fingers ghost over the shell of Jean’s ear. “I’m yours. Every part of me.” He brings Jean’s mouth to his. His hands shake where they hold Jean by the jaw, but he won’t let go. Jean’s devotion will be his last memory.

 

* * *

 

_Armin takes a step back and beams. The cottage isn’t complete by any means, but the structure is standing and they can finally stop sleeping outside. Jean tries the doorknob to make sure it’s functioning properly before closing the door and jogging over the stand next to Armin._

_They’re both disheveled, covered in sweat and various substances used to build their cottage. Pride swells in him knowing they’ve built their home all on their own. Jean puts his arm around Armin’s shoulders and leans over to kiss the side of his head._

_“I can’t believe it’s almost done.” Armin looks to him. “Just need to finish a few minor things, move in the appliances, and buy furniture. We could go to town tomorrow and see if they’ll deliver the stove early, stop by the woodworking shop to order a bed, and -” Armin sighs, his attention returning to their little slice of heaven, built just for the two of them._

_Jean puts a hand on his hip. After so many years in the military he’d forgotten how great it is have a home. “Still have to build the outhouse.”_

_Armin rolls his eyes and groans. “Don’t remind me.” He turns his attention back to Jean, his arms lock around Jean’s waist. Armin’s so full of warmth and hope for the future they have together, even if it’s limited. “I love you.”_

_Jean peers down at him over the bridge of his nose. “You’re feeling sentimental today.”_

_“Oh, shut up. Forget I said anything.” The irritation he tries to convey doesn’t quite reach his words._

_“Like I could forget anything you tell me.”_

_Armin tilts his head up and accepts Jean’s kiss._

_“Mmm.” Jean’s crooked smile drops when they pull apart, his mouth relaxing into a tender smirk. “I love you, too.” He rests his forehead against Armin’s to take it all in. The sound of the ocean, the sea breeze cooling the sweat on his neck, and the solid weight of Armin pressed in his side._

_Jean smirks, “Should I carry you across the threshold?”_

_Armin pushes his shoulder. “We’re not newlyweds.”_

_“Aw, c’mon.”_

_“Why do you have to carry me across the threshold? I’m not a girl you know.”_

_His hand runs through the hair on the back of Armin’s head. “I know you aren’t a girl, but I can more easily carry you then you can carry me.”_

_Armin gapes at him. “I can carry you just fine!”_

_Jean raises an eyebrow. “Oh really?” He drops his whole body against Armin and he stumbles under the sudden weight._

_“Are you serious Jean?”_

_Jean nuzzles his stubble under Armin’s chin. “I am but a fair maiden. Please help me cross the threshold to our home.”_

_Armin tries and fails to push Jean off of him. “Fine!” He grabs Jean’s wrists around his neck and walks forward. Years of being in the military have taught him how to grit his teeth and do what needs to be done, but Jean’s deadweight provides no help as he approaches the doorway._

_Jean’s boots drag in the grass while he hangs off Armin’s neck. He laughs at the grunts of effort coming from Armin. “Come on Commander! Where’s all that physical strength you’ve honed.”_

_“I’m trying to concentrate you jerk!” Armin takes another step forward. Two more and he will have won Jean’s little challenge._

_Jean laughs when he locks his elbows, making it more difficult for Armin to hold onto him, he feels himself slipping down Armin’s back though his lover is determined to keep going. They reach the last step of the foundation and Armin’s boot slips under the uneven distribution. They crash to the ground, Jean pressed over Armin’s back._

_“Oh you bastard!” Armin screams and reached back to swat at him. “I was right there!”_

_He rolls off of Armin and laughs. “Oh c’mon Armin. Lighten up.” Next to him, Armin pouts. He rolls his eyes, leave it to him to reduce Armin to a grumpy mess. “Look.” Jean catches Armin’s eyes and pointedly looks at the door frame they’ve landed in. “Technically, you made it.”_

_After a moment of contemplation Armin snorts. “You’re such a sap.”_

_Jean flips onto his stomach and sits up on his knees. “Only for you.” He tilts his head back to look at the sky, clear blue. An idea strikes him, Armin only got them halfway across the threshold.  He looks back to Armin, laid out across the doorway and grins._

_Armin doesn’t miss the way Jean’s face changes from placated to smug. “Jean, what are you thinking?”_

_Without missing a beat Jean scoops Armin up and throws him over his shoulder._

_“Put me down!” Armin complains, though his words come out as a breath of laughter._

_Jean carries Armin into the house and set him down. “I met you halfway.”_

_Armin’s frown quickly dissolves into a soft smile. He feels complete standing in their empty home, looking up and Jean. This will be their first memory in their home, loving and playful. It’s exactly how he wants to live out his days here._

 

* * *

 

Jean grips the two mugs of tea in his hand and walks back to the couch. It’s just before midnight, the crickets outside chirp melodically in the still night. Armin sits on the couch cocooned in a blanket.

“Hey,” Jean says as he pushes one mug into Armin’s hand. “It’s still hot, be careful.”

Armin stares blankly at the fireplace, the stress of the past few days is evident in the deep set lines of his face. The fire crackles, spitting embers out of the hearth and onto the stone it’s made of. “Thank you,” Armin responds belatedly, as if it only just occurred to him he hadn’t said anything in return.

“You’re welcome.” Jean grabs a blanket from the chair and sets it over their laps. He puts his arm around Armin and pulls him in close so he’s leaning his head on Jean’s shoulder. In the quiet of their cottage Jean can hear the ticking of the clock above the kitchen sink just over the sporadic crackle of the flames. The clock chimes at midnight, marking the fourth day since the cycle has ended.

Next to him Armin shudders, a quiet sob escaping his throat. “It’s not fair,” Armin whispers, his voice thick with sorrow. He repeats himself until he’s tucked his head under Jean’s neck and can no longer speak through the tears. He finds himself lost between savoring each breath and abhorring the arbitrary discretion of the universe.

Jean strokes his hair. Each moment is so uncertain. Stress alone has carried them these last few days while Armin has become a shadow of himself. “We should sleep.”

Armin snorts. “You think you can sleep?”

“No, but we should try. Neither of us has slept in three days.” Next to him, Armin shifts, pulling his legs up under himself as he sinks into Jean’s side. “If it happens-”

“When,” Armin snaps back at him. “When it happens.”

Jean closes his eyes and lets out a breath, “When it happens, it’ll happen whether we’re sleeping or not.”

Armin sniffles.

“Come to bed with me. I’ll watch you sleep.”

“Then what’s the point?”

“Knowing you’re okay.”

Armin looks up at him. “And if I don’t wake up?”

Jean bites his lip and peers into Armin’s eyes, wide and blue. They’re the one part of him that never hardened, still as beautiful and clear as they had been on their first day of training. “We’ll face that fear together.”

They stare at each other a moment longer. “Okay. Take me to bed.”

Jean grins, perhaps due to fatigue, but more likely because of his disposition.

“What?” Armin almost laughs at the goofy way Jean’s mouth pulls to the side.

“The last time you said that to me, it was much sexier.”

Armin bats at Jean’s chest, and shakes his head to hide his amusement. “Even at the end, you’re still the same.”

Jean scoops Armin up. Armin’s fingers lace behind his neck, holding Armin to his chest Jean levels his gaze. “Only for you.” He leans down and kisses Armin as he tries to ignore the panic telling him it could be the last time.

 

* * *

 

The sun rising marks the seventh day since the end of the cycle. Armin sits in their bed cross legged and looks out the window above their pillows watching the shadows change. Jean snores softly next to his knee, his face relaxed even if there’s drool in the corner of his mouth. Armin reaches down and pushes the fringe off Jean’s face, even unconscious Jean turns into his touch.

“Hey,” Armin whispers. “Get up.”

Jean groans and turns into the pillow. “You get up.”

“You’re so articulate.”

Jean’s hand searches blindly, finds Armin’s forearm, and follows it to Armin's face where he presents and defiant middle finger.

Armin snorts and pushes Jean’s arm away. “We have things to do today.”

He turns to look at Armin. “Like what?”

“Well, we need to go into town and get more food.”

“We just went last week.”

“Yeah, but we didn’t buy enough for two people.”

The clock ticks in the silence. Jean sits up, facing Armin. “This is real then.”

“Seems that way.”

Jean scratches the back of his head. “Let’s spend the day at the beach.”

“We need food.”

“Fuck food. Sunday’s are for pancakes. You said so yourself.”

Armin smirks. “And what about lunch?”

“Sandwiches. On the beach.”

“And dinner?”

“Dig up some clams. Set some fishing traps. Make a stew.”

Armin looks away with a soft laugh. “And tomorrow, what will we eat then?”

“We’ll go into town.”

His hand goes to Jean’s face, prickly with morning stubble. The morning light halo’s him as if he’s been chosen solely to exist for Armin. He pushes Jean’s face away. “Go back to sleep. Let me make the pancakes.”

This sunday is a stark contrast to the last. The day is bright and clear. From the kitchen Armin can hear the gentle _swoosh_ of the ocean. He opens the front door to let the breeze in and sets to work making breakfast, calling for Jean when it’s ready.

He comes out from the bedroom sleepily scratching his stomach as he yawns. He stops at their phonograph and selects a cello concerto, Armin’s favorite. In the weeks leading up to the cycle’s end Jean thought he might pack all the things that were shrouded to heavily with Armin and put them in the attic. Objects that would only to see the light of day when the hurt passed, but he’s happy to have them now.

It’s dream-like watching Armin move about the kitchen, chest bare and sleep pants hanging loosely on his hips so they drag along the wooden floor. Jean smiles when Armin hikes them up and reties the draw string, irritation evident. “You know, that wouldn’t happen if you wore your own pants.”

Armin glances down at his waist. “Oh, dammit.” He snorts. “I bet orthodox couples don’t have this problem.”

“Guess we should find you a _little lady_.”

Armin’s face scrunches up in disgust. “Not even in my next life.”

Jean laughs at him. “Gay from the grave.”

“Oh, hush. Shove some food in your mouth.”

They take their seats at the table and eat. Armin makes a list for their shopping trip tomorrow. He asks Jean what he wants and as usual Jean isn’t very helpful, considering he’s content to eat anything so long as it’s not rotting.

Armin catches his eye across the table.

“Something wrong?” Jean asks and licks the syrup from his lips.

“We’re really going to spend the day at the beach?” They stare at each other knowing that neither of them had never planned for another Sunday together after last.

“We didn’t get a chance to leave the house last Sunday because of the storm.”

Armin lets a content smile come over him, “Okay.”

They get up together and help one another dress. Armin pulls a white linen shirt from the wardrobe and hands it to Jean. He watches thoughtfully as Jean pulls it over his shoulders and adjusts the collar before buttoning.

Jean glances to Armin, his stare lingering. “What?”

“Nothing.” A small smile pulls on Armin’s lips. “I was just thinking that I never tell you how handsome you are.”

Jean’s fingers still over his buttons, his head turns away from Armin. “Probably because you are a terrible flirt.”

Armin balks. “So are you!”

“Yeah, terribly good. You’re just terrible.”

They argue about who is the worse flirt as they make sandwiches and pack a bag to spend the rest of the day on the beach. “Okay, well what about the time your version of seduction was licking a sausage at the dinner table?” Armin plants their parasol in the sand, as close to the water as they can be without getting wet.

“Well, it worked.”

Armin rolls his eyes, “Only because we’ve been together for over a decade.”

“Exactly. We’re not teenagers, there doesn’t need to be a show every time we fuck. Besides, you’re no better.”

“Well, I certainly couldn’t be any worse,” Armin mumbles.

“Oh? You could and you have been.”

“When?”

“How about when we first started sleeping together and your version of dirty talk was telling me that my cock was so big it would give you hemorrhoids.”

Armin closes his eyes and sighs. He’ll never win this argument now. “At some point you are going to have to stop bringing that up.”

“Never. Now admit it. You’re the more terrible flirt.”

“To be fair I was fifteen and I wasn’t exactly sure what hemorrhoids were.”

“Armin.” Jean raises his eyebrow letting Armin know that he’s won so there’s no point in continuing.

“Fine, but you’re equally bad.”

Jean relents with a sigh. “Fine.”

They sit in the sand looking out towards the horizon. Armin reaches out and takes Jean’s hand. It’s a simple gesture that Jean knows is more or less Armin’s true version of seduction. They stare out at the ocean, clear as it comes in and murky as it retreats. Armin’s toes dig at the sand, while his chin rests on his knees. He’s lost in thought, far away from Jean despite their proximity.

“What are you thinking about?”

Armin glances at him. His eyes linger, confirming Jean’s suspicions, before looking back out over the water.

“It would be easier not to think about it, don’t you think?”

“If only I had the luxury.” Armin pulls his hand away. He swallows, “If I don’t die -” Armin pauses, his lips roll into a tight line before he takes a shaky breath. “If I don’t die then Eren died for no reason.”

Jean closes his eyes. It’s impossible to ever truly be free from the atrocities they’ve faced or the atrocities they’ve committed. Sometimes he can still hear the snapping of Eren’s bones, Hanji’s titan hadn’t done Eren any favors by eating him whole. He can still hear him screaming for them to watch his death, not out of malice or sadism, but so that his final moments would be borne witness. “You know that’s not what happened. We’ve talked about this and I know there’s not an easy answer. There’s never going to be an easy answer, but you cannot put this on yourself.”

He looks to Armin, he’s gone still. “It’s like-,” Jean shifts, turning his torso towards Armin. “It’s like one of your experiments - not that lives are experiments - just that, you know. Sometimes, after you do them a few times, the answer you first had isn’t right. There’s more - uh - _information_. It’s nobody’s fault we didn’t have more information. We did our best with the knowledge we had.”

There’s a pause before Armin looks at him. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

“You know, we didn’t have a lot of information. Even after the war. They never really let the cycle run it’s course so there were no writings on what happens. Same way there was no cure.” Armin bites his lip, “For a long time I thought we’d find one when we won. When there was nothing, none of us even knew where to begin. For a while I thought you’d leave me, like maybe you’d been holding out for the cure and would change your mind when you knew it wasn’t there.”

“Armin I -”

“I know. You don’t have to say it. I was young. I still thought of things like that.” He picks up a random stick and throws it towards the water. It doesn’t make it, but the water grabs it when it rushes in. “Maybe the cycle is an approximation. Maybe they lied.”

“Lied about the cycle?”

“Yeah.”

“Why would they do that?”

Armin shrugs. “To keep their soldiers young. No different from us in a way.”

“Either way, it’s more time than we thought we had.”

“Mmm.” Armin smirks. “I’m a mortal man again.”

“What do you mean?”

“If God is the orchestrator of our existence, then his most closely guarded secret is our death. It’s information we can’t predict or divine, no matter how much man tries. Knowing when you will die takes away God’s ultimate power.”

Jean’s eyebrows pull together. “Do you mean to tell me that you’re a God?”

Armin snickers, “I was until about a week ago.”

“Sorry to have to be the one to tell you, but you’re mortal just like the rest of us. How does it feel?”

“Terrifying. I don’t know how you manage.”

“One day at a time, angel.”

Armin blushes and leans into Jean’s side.


	3. borrowed time

Jean loves Armin, but he’s rearranged their furniture six times in just as many weeks. He’s built a chicken pen with the intent of butchering their own meat, but he’s also named all the chickens. Armin’s favorite is Reginald and Jean’s found the damn thing strutting through their living room more than once.

It’s not that he _doesn’t_ understand the mania, he has his fair share. In the last week alone he’s fixed the leaks in their roof, cleaned the chimney, and _finally_ repaired the wobbly leg on the kitchen chair. If he’s being completely honest, they fuck like teenagers more often than not. It’s an act that says they aren’t dreaming, that Armin is still here, and that, by extension, he is still Jean’s to keep. _However_ , they’ve been isolated for weeks. More so than they ever were before.

So, when Jean receives a letter from Connie and Sasha it acts, in part, as a call back to the reality of adulthood. He stands, leaning against the sink as he reads. “ _Dear Jean, I hope this letter finds you well. With no word from our last correspondence, Sasha and I have spent many nights wondering how you are. We never expected to receive details about Armin’s passing, but we did expect word. Regardless, we hate imagining you alone in that cottage by the sea and wish to welcome you into our home for as long as you wish._

_“Our baby girl is waiting to meet you. Even though we received no response as to whether or not you and Armin would be her godparents, we know the answer. You are her godfather in life and Armin in spirit. We’ve named her Lara, and she is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever created._

_“Though there is nothing that can help you in this time of grief, if ever there was a time to see the goodness in the world, it is now. And trust me, Lara is good.”_

“What’s that?”

Jean looks up and sees Armin walking into the kitchen. He wears Jean’s linen button up, closed by two buttons at the center. “We never sent word to Connie and Sasha that you’re still here. They just invited me to go stay with them.”

Armin walks over to him, kisses his jaw, and sets his chin on Jean’s shoulder as he reads the letter. “Lara, beautiful name.”

“I know. I thought so, too.”

“We should go.”

Jean folds the letter and sets it behind himself on the counter. “Are you sure? What if -”

“Hey.” Armin cuts him off. “I’m a mortal man, now. Remember?”

“I do.” The resolve doesn’t reach his voice.

“For all we know death is years away from taking me from you, and if we let the possibility that he’s much closer stop us from taking advantage of time we’ve been given, then it won’t really be like we’ve been given that time at all.”

Jean stares at him, contemplative. “You just want to see the baby.”

“Damn straight. Now get packing, we need to go into town to borrow some horses.”

 

* * *

 

They arrive just as the sun is setting, it tints the sky purple and pink. They tether their horses at the local stable and walk the rest of the way to the Springer household.

“I’m nervous,” Armin says from Jean’s side. “We haven’t seen them in nearly two years.”

Jean rolls his eyes. “You should be more worried about giving them a heart attack. They think you’re dead.”

“We should have sent a letter.”

“You were very focused on leaving as soon as possible. We didn’t get a chance.”

They walk up the narrow steps to the front door of their friend’s house, the walkway forces Armin behind Jean. He knocks. Beyond the door they hear talking, and then footsteps approaching. The door swings open and Connie’s face pulls into surprise.

“Jean!”

Jean grins and holds his hand out in greeting. “Hey, _Papa._ ”

“Ah, man! She can’t talk, yet!”

“Connie, who is it?” Sasha calls from the second floor.

“It’s Jean.”

Armin peeks out from behind Jean. “I know I’m small, but that’s no excuse to ignore me.”

If Connie had been surprised to see Jean, he’s awestruck to see Armin too. “Armin,” he says quietly. He looks to Jean. “Is this real?”

Jean nods.

Connie’s hand goes to his head and he starts laughing. “You - You’re alive!” He turns back to the house. “Sasha! It’s Armin! He’s here too!”

There’s banging from the second floor followed by a mad dash down the stairs. Sasha stops short of the door. Her hand goes to her mouth be she begins wiping her eyes. She sniffs. “Well let them in Connie.”

The two of them step inside and there’s suddenly so much movement. Connie pulls Armin into a hug and slaps his back saying, “I can’t believe it! It’s really you.” Meanwhile Jean hugs Sasha and kisses her cheek, making sure to drop a congratulation in there. Then they switch.

“How are you -” Sasha says through her tears of joy. “I mean, I thought - the cycle - thirteen years -”

Armin shakes his head. “There’s time to talk about that later. We came to celebrate new life not marvel at mine. Where is she?”

“She just went down, but she’ll be up in a few hours,” Sasha sighs.

“She can sleep through all that noise?” Jean teases her and Sasha laughs.

“She already has a lot of practice. Just because we’re adults now doesn’t mean we’ve gotten any quieter.”

Connie puts both his arms around Armin and Jean’s next. “This evening calls for beer! Let’s drink our fill and eat until we can’t eat anymore!”

The group cheers and they set to work on dinner. The evening passes fast, they sit on the back deck of the Springer property with a small fire between them. Sasha doesn’t drink, but she doesn’t need to, she's still just as amped up as the rest of them. However, her whole form goes rigid in the middle of Armin’s retelling of one of the better memories of their recruit days.

“What’s wrong?” Connie grabs Sasha's hand.

She turns to him with a smile. “I think she’s up.”

“Do you want me to grab her?”

“No,” she stands and slaps her breast like a pair of hand drums. She looks over her crowd, “Sorry, had to get the udders ready for milking.”

The group laughs themselves into hysterics. Woman, wife, mother - none of the those titles matter to Sasha, she’s still herself.

“Armin, would you like to help?”

“Of course,” Armin sets his drink down and the two of them excuse themselves.

Sasha leads them upstairs, the second story is more like a storage landing with a room on the left hand side. Armin can hear shrill baby wails when they reach the top. “How did you hear that outside?”

She looks over her shoulder with a smile. “Motherhood has given me abilities beyond your wildest dreams.”

“I can transform into a gigantic beast, try me.”

They laugh and Sasha pushes the door open. “Shh,” she begins to coo from the door. She goes to the cradle at the foot of the bed. At the sound of her voice the cries begin to die down. “Hush now, my little potato.” She smiles down at the bassinet and scoops up a little white bundle. “I know you’re hungry, you have my appetite” she says as she rocks her arms side to side. “Before you eat though there’s somebody here you need to meet.”

Sasha beckons Armin over with a nod of her head. She turns into him, revealing a chubby little face with pale green eyes. “Lara, this is your godfather, Commander Armin Arlert.”

Armin can’t do anything, but stare. To think that at the end of the carnage they had all witnessed there could be something so beautiful, to think that there could exist a moment so pure in spite of the world’s evil has left Armin without words.

Lara’s cries have subsided and her mindful eyes seem to regard him with a proper amount of curiosity and reservation. An apt response, he thinks.

Sasha giggles. “You’re crying.”

Armin looks away from the baby, suddenly aware of how tight his chest is and wipes his eyes. “Sorry, I just -”

Sasha shakes her head. “I know. She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

Armin nods. “Yes. She’s gorgeous.” He leans over and kisses Sasha’s temple. “You guys did good.”

“Do you want to hold her.”

Armin tenses. “Oh, no. I shouldn’t I’ve had too much to drink and-”

“Nonsense. You had one pint. Sit,” she nods to the rocking chair behind the bed.

Armin pauses, but follows her instructions.

“Now grab a pillow from the bed and place it in your lap. Yep, and just hold your arms out.”

Before he can think too much about is Sasha has set little baby Lara in his hands. She’s warmer than he expected her to be, a little package of heat and potential. He looks up to Sasha and she beams as she takes a seat on the bed. “Don’t be so stiff,” she teases.

Armin wills himself to relax into the chair, his arms fold around her, pulling the baby close. He’s never held an infant before. Sure they had done humanitarian work with children before, but never this young. He suddenly understands what people mean when they say, _baby smell_.

“Hi,” he says after a moment, his volume startles her. He drops his voice to a whisper and leans in close. “My name is Armin.” His hair falls into her face and she blinks before grabbing at it. “Yeah, my hair is blond, but yours is brown like your mother’s and that’s just as good.”

Lara gurgles and Armin looks up at Sasha with a smile only to find her wiping at her eyes.

“What’s wrong? Am I doing something wrong?”

“No!” Sasha waves him off. “I just -” She sniffles. “I never thought you’d get to meet her and you’re here. Armin, you’re _here._ ”

Something changes and Lara starts to cry.

“Oh, she’s done waiting for food.” Sasha stands, Armin following suit.

They trade positions, this time Armin hands Lara to Sasha. He sits on the bed as Sasha opens her shirt and begins to feed the baby. Perhaps she should show more decency, but years together in the military means Armin is more than acquainted with Sasha’s breasts. He laughs and she looks up at him.

“What?” Sasha smiles, “It’s weird, isn’t it?”

Armin shrugs. “I was just remembering our days in the military.”

“The communal baths?” She laughs at the thought.

Sasha pats Lara’s back as she feeds. “Armin, what happened?”

Armin swallows, he’s known since their arrival he would have to explain eventually. “I don’t know. I just - I didn’t die” He looks away. “It’s not just that I don’t know why, either. I don’t know what it means that didn’t, meaning I don’t know if I’m here on borrowed time or if we were just wrong.”

“How long has it been?”

“Nearly seven weeks.”

“Jean?”

Armin closes his eyes and sighs. “He’s,” he pauses to think, “cautious. I’ve always been the one between the two of us to step back and plan. The one to wait. I can’t do that right now, if I stop for even a moment  it feels like the illusion will shatter. I’ll be to paralyzed to go on. I had to convince him to come here, not because he didn’t want to, but because he’s worried I might die away from home.”

“He loves you.”

“I know, but I hate to see him shackled this way. Regardless of whether or not this is borrowed time, I want to be with him without restraint. We can’t spend the rest of our lives afraid.”

Sasha burps Lara. “ _The rest of your lives,_ ” she quotes him. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that.”

“The possibility never existed before. Not the way I wanted it to.”

Lara burps and Sasha smiles at her. “That’s my girl.”

Jean and Connie’s voices travel up through the floorboards, followed by the _ping_ of a piano. “Looks like we’re done outside. We should join them.” Armin nods, standing. He helps Sasha out of the chair, “Grab that case in the corner for me.”

Armin does as Sasha asks and he follows her down the stairs. Before they even reach the bottom step Connie is there to take the baby. “Give her here. You got to show her off to Armin, now it’s my turn.”

“It’s not a competition,” Sasha laughs and trades her to Connie for a kiss.

Connie goes over to Jean. “Jean, I think it’s time you met the love of my life, our baby girl Lara.”

Jean looks down at the round baby in Connie’s arms and laughs as he wipes a tear from his eye. Armin doesn’t need to ask what he’s thinking, he sees it on Jean’s face - it’s the same absolute wonderment that Armin had experienced. “Can I hold her?”

“Yeah!” Connie beams. “Get comfortable on the couch.”

Jean moves away from his seat on the piano bench and Connie sets Jean up much the way Sasha set up Armin. The group congregates in the living room to observe while Jean meets his goddaughter for the first time. It isn’t until Connie excuses himself for a glass of water that the case Armin had grabbed from the room is noticed.

“Sash, did you have Armin grab the fiddle?”

“Well, I heard Jean messing with the piano.”

An excited buzz hums between them all. “How many songs do you guys remember from back when?” Armin snorts, looking at Connie.

“All of them,” he replies.

There’s no discussion about it, Armin sits at the piano and Connie takes out his fiddle. Armin plays them in and Connie follows. The group claps and sings together, reliving some of the better memories of their youth. In Jean’s arms, Lara coos and giggles.

The group calls it a night when Lara starts to fuss. The new parents apologize in advance for Lara’s chaotic sleep schedule before going upstairs, leaving Jean and Armin to finish making their bed on the floor.   
The lay in bed together, Armin tucked into Jean’s side. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she.”  
“She got Sasha’s looks.” Jean snorts, “God willing, she got the better part of both their brains, too.”  
“Hmm.” Armin closes his eyes, they’ve had such a long day between traveling and reuniting with their friends.

“You’re falling asleep on me.”  
“Not sorry,” Armin mumbles against Jean’s chest.

Jean tilts his head down to kiss the crown of Armin’s head. “How long do you want to stay here?”

Armin shrugs. “A week. Four days at least. All that horse riding kicked my ass.”

Jean laughs at Armin’s expense. “Not as young as we use to be, huh?”

“Whatever. I could still kick your ass.”

“You were never able to kick my ass?”

“Shut up. I’m sleeping.” Armin is content to let Jean tease him, but he really is about to pass out.

“Okay, okay. Can you give me a kiss before you fall asleep?”

Armin sighs and tilts his chin up. Jean kisses him goodnight.

“I love you,” Jean whispers in the darkness.

“I love you more,” Armin murmurs back.

 

* * *

 

They leave a week later at day break. The little family they had been staying with rises to see them off at the stable. Armin finishes packing up his horse and goes to his friends. He smiles at Lara, “Oh, I just want to take you home with me!” The group laughs and he kisses the baby’s head. “Thank you,” he says looking to Sasha before leaning in to kiss her cheek.

“Stay safe. Write us when you’re home.”

“Of course.”

They continue with their goodbyes and depart a few minutes later.

Their journey home is peaceful, like a weight has been lifted. They laugh and stop to eat provisions in the shade or admire the various meadows. Armin uses his journal to press a few flowers, turning to Jean as he picks them to show them off.

They takes the road less travelled and don’t see another person for the majority of their journey. They are so removed from the world around them that it’s easy to forget the stress that had been weighing on them up until this point.

It’s on the fifth day that they come across a deep pond with a gentle waterfall. Jean grins at Armin as they stop to let the horses drink. The boyish quality that Armin has missed from him over the last few weeks seems to return as he looks at the waterfall.

“How deep do you think the pond is?”

Armin shugs. “Ten feet, at least”

“Wanna jump from the waterfall with me?”

Armin looks at him curiously and laughs. “Should we make camp here?”

“Might as well.”

“Okay, let’s set up for the night -  
“No,” Jean tugs at Armin’s elbow. “Let’s do it now! It’s like that latin phrase you used to like. Um, _carpe diem!_ ”

Jean’s sincerity makes Armin laugh. They strip out of their clothes and climb the boulders. Armin looks down, suddenly nervous. “It looks so much higher from up here.”

“Scared?”

Armin puffs out his chest, rising to the challenge. “No.”

Jean snickers. “Yeah, you are.”

“Most rational people are scared of jumping from heights.”

“Aw, c’mon. I’ll hold your hand.”

“I’m not a child you asshole.”

Jean roars with laughter, feeling as though he’s won. He’s already standing at the edge of the rock, distracted by his own grandeur.  Armin shoves him off the edge of the waterfall and Jean lands in the water with a loud splash. Armin grins when he sees Jean break the surface of the water.

“Armin!”

He tilts his head.

“Get down here right now!”

Armin laughs. “No way! I don’t know what you’re planning, but I know I can’t beat you physically. “

Jean frowns. “Ah, man. I just wanted to jump together. “

“We don’t have to do everything together, Jean.”

“I know, but I want to do everything with you.”

“You mean that?”

“Of course!” Jean yells back up at him.

“What if I want a dog when we get home?”

“If that’s something you want, we’ll do it.”

“And if I want to travel up the coast?”

“I can’t believe you’re going to make me ride on a horse for that long.”

Armin grins. “Well, what about you? What do you want?”

Jean pauses. A bird flies overhead and Jean wades in the water to keep himself afloat. “I want to marry you.”

Armin’s eyes go wide. He hadn’t been expecting such a serious reply. “I told you before -”

“I know. Common law. I just want the real thing. Isn’t that okay, too? I want our names to be the same when we die. Whenever that may be.”

For a moment Armin can only smile. “Okay.”

Jean slaps the water with enthusiasm. “Now get down here so I can kiss you stupid.”

“That might require a lot of time on your part.”

“I love a challenge.”

With a grin, Armin jumps.

 

* * *

 

Later that evening they lay down to sleep. Jean pulls Armin into him and nuzzles his neck. The fire burns low, it’s sure to go out soon enough. Behind them Jean can hear the waterfall, it’s noise is calming, overlaid with the chirping of crickets and the gentle breeze that rustles the leaves in the trees above them. For the first time since the cycle ended Jean doesn’t feel like there’s any need to be on edge. He’s just happy to be there.

Armin shifts against him. “Jean”

“Yeah?”

“I want one more thing.”

“What do you mean?”

Armin turns to face him, he braces himself by putting a hand to Jean’s chest. “The things we’ll do together. I want one more.”

“You can have as many as you like.”

Armin swallows, the thickness audible. He’s never been this nervous to ask Jean for anything. “I want a daughter.”

The idea doesn’t shock Jean, so much as the timing. It must show on because Armin begins to ramble.

“Or a son. The gender matters much less than actually having a child. We could add onto the the back of the house, or make the attic a second story. That would take more time and planning though. And it doesn't have to happen now. Maybe in a year or so when everyday doesn’t feel so fragile -”

Jean kisses him hard, pulling Armin over onto his body. They kiss like touch starved teenagers, rutting against each other in the summer night. Jean never does answer with words, he tells him with his hands. His touch solid and warm against Armin as they tangle together with comfort that comes from years of knowing only each other.

They get each other off with spit slicked hands. Given a bed and the comforts of home, Jean doesn’t think he would let Armin sleep that night. Even as Armin rolls off him, panting while Jean cleans them up with the foot corner of the blanket, Jean thinks to himself that maybe this is the life they were always meant to have. The future they talked about that tear filled evening only a few weeks ago seems so much closer to becoming a reality. This thought alone brings to life so many possibilities.

Jean can see them with a child or two and a dog. Making the most of everyday as they teach them to be good people. Maybe Armin can return to more full time research, Jean knows he wants to, but hasn’t ever voiced it, choosing instead to live out what he assumed to be the last few years of his life with Jean. He can see them as old men with rocking chairs and kneehigh grandchildren.

He wants everything with Armin, and he might just get it.

 

* * *

 

It’s a sudden scalding hot heat that wakes Jean up. It’s early morning, the forest is still except for the grunts of the hoses tied at the lake. At first Jean isn’t sure how to process the pain in his arms, he’s been burned, but there’s no fire.

He looks back to where he was just sleeping and there’s smoke rising from near Armin’s sleeping form. Jean’s still not fully awake and even as he looks at the scene all he can think is that the campfire was out by the time they had fallen asleep. Then he hear’s Armin’s labored breathing and he knows something is wrong.

Jean scrambles to the other side of Armin. Something inside him breaks, because when he sees Armin’s face twisted in pain, yet still seemingly asleep, he knows this is the end they have both been waiting for.

“Armin!” Jean reaches out to shake him, but has to pull his arm away when Armin’s body lets off a huge cloud of smoke.

It’s then that Armin opens his eyes in absolute terror. Armin’s chest heaves with the effort of his breathing, but the reality of the situation dawns on him much like it has Jean. His voice is so rough when he speaks. “Live-,” he chokes out a sputtering cough and a large cloud of smoke comes from within him. “Do it all.”

Everything that happens after that occurs in a matter of seconds. Armin’s whole body seems to crack open, a fire burning him from the inside out. His skin glows like smoldering embers. He begins to scream as the pain overwhelms him. The cry is shrill, sending birds up from the trees. The horses whine at the edge of the water, sensing the unnatural event happening just feet away.

Armin’s final act of his own volition is to reach out his hand towards Jean. He takes Armin’s hand, if the universe is to take Armin from him he will not let him go alone. Jean will stay with him until the end, because the only thing worse than watching Armin die would be the lingering thought that he had failed to comfort him. Ignoring the pain and undoubted scent of his own skin burning, Jean weeps. He won’t ask Armin not to go, because he knows Armin doesn’t want to any less than Jean wants him to.

“I love you,” Jean manages with a shaky breath, but the words feel inadequate. Armin knows he loves him. “I will,” he answers Armin’s desperate plea.

The life drains from Armin’s eyes as his skin blackens and grays, a few flakes of ash catch the wind and fly away with Armin’s consciousness. This leaves a form of ash in the shape of the love of his life, as if he’s been turned into a grotesque sculpture. A breeze comes through and Armin’s hand crumbles, his whole body caves in on itself like an over burned log. The form Jean had known better than his own disappears from the world. For the first time in over a decade, Jean is a single entity, existing only to carry on Armin’s memory.

Jean stares at the pile of ash, no, not pile, _Armin._ This is all that’s left of him. His hands drop to his side and he squeezes his eyes shut. He turns his face towards the sky and wails. The tears start up and he is helpless to stop them. Jean cries until he’s made himself sick, he vomits in the fire pit and lays down in the damp dirt staring at the ash.

If he looks closely, there’s still a bit a form where Armin’s head had laid against the ground. He can still see the sadness in Armin’s features.

“I’ll always love you.” Jean reaches out a hand and runs a finger along the curve of Armin’s cheek. The ash collapses and Jean pulls his hand away with a shaky breath.

  

* * *

 

The still of the forest is oppressing, drawing away every noise, but Jean’s own breath. “You know, Armin.” Jean adjusts his position, pushing his groin a little further back in the saddle for a more relaxed ride. The forest doesn’t scare him, despite it’s darkness. There’s little to fear after the collapse of the titans, not even death. Death is sad and tragic, but it shouldn’t be feared even after everything. “I knew I loved you the day you almost died, on the rooftop. I don’t think I ever told you that.”

A metal thermos sits between his legs, it’s the vessel that carries the ashes of his lover. Armin had wanted to be buried, if only to avoid the fate of his comrades who had been burned in mass graves. The universe had been cruel, but Jean would be damned if Armin’s final resting place wasn’t the cliff on their property that overlooked the sea.  “I’d been numb to death and carnage for so long before that, but seeing you ripped away from us -,” He pauses to collect his thoughts. “It reminded me that there were still so much I could lose.”

His horse sneezes and he rubs at her neck. “That’s what you were for me Armin. You were my reason. My reason for - everything.”

“Was it the same for you? Did you realize you loved me when you held me in the field?” Jean snorts. “I don’t know what you thought you were going to do with a single blade. So, how ‘bout it, Armin? Did you love me then? When did you know your life would never be the same without me?”

Jean comes to the edge of the forest. In the distance he can see the town where he’ll return the horses before making the final journey to his cottage by the sea.

 

* * *

 

Jean stands with his back to the ocean. The sun is beginning it’s descent in the sky as it approaches mid afternoon. It’s fall and the breeze from the water carries a chill. Jean scratches his beard, kept and full. Armin had never liked facial hair and would always argue with him until Jean finally shaved. “I found your letters,” he says. “They were behind the books on the fireplace. Yeah, I know I should have moved the books in the last twenty months but -” Jean shrugs. “I didn’t read the ones for Connie, Sasha, or anyone else. Promise. I sent them in the post this morning.”

He twists the ring on his finger. He’d made himself one out of petrified wood, a line carved in the center, filled with Armin’s ashes and his favorite crushed flowers, and sealed with resin. No, they never married in ritual, but common law was all he had when he returned home. He’d clung to that in times of darkness.

“I did read the one you wrote me.” Jean laughs. “How is it that you can make me blush from beyond the grave. I’m a grown man dammit!”

Beside him his border collie whines. “Sorry, Iris. I was just kidding. I’m not really upset.” The dog stands and trots off towards the house, no doubt to harass the chickens.

Jean pulls out the letter from his back pocket. He unfolds the parchment and scans the paper. There are so many sweet sentiments, but they are all things he knew when Armin was alive. He feels Armin’s love even now.

“I really like the letter. I was thinking I might frame it.” Jean smirks, “You’d hate that. Probably say that it was private. But, uh, you asked a question at the end. I think you were speaking more to yourself than you were to me. You asked, _will you be okay without me? Will you forget what it is to be happy?”_

Jean looks towards the worn footpath that leads to their property. In the distance there’s a carriage approaching. His heart beats in his chest, he’d never thought he’d be this nervous for today.

“I am, Armin. I’m fine. I won’t lie, it was hard at first. No amount of notice, even thirteen years worth of notice, would have been enough to make me okay with losing you. I still feel your absence. Especially right now.” Jean rubs his face. “Oh, why did I do this Armin?”

“It’s not just one, it’s two kids! A brother and his sister. I met them last week. They’re both quick as a whip. They would have even given you a run for your money. Shit.”

He pauses, and bows his head. “They’re like the missing piece to the life we wanted. It would have been our greatest journey together. I signed the paperwork last week after completing the attic renovation. That took longer than I thought it would, but you can’t blame me. Afterall I had to take that trip up the coast right in the middle of it.”

Jean sighs, “I told them they don’t have to call me Papa, unless they want to. Colin, the boy, he’s a bit shy, but sweet. When I told him we would have a dog he perked up. Charlotte on the other hand, she’s less trusting. She keeps making notes about me in her journal. She doesn’t like the beard either, you probably would have gotten along with her. Colin did tell me she likes to be called Char, though. I think I’ll use that to my advantage.”

He looks out over the field and sees the carriage has almost arrived. Jean kneels and looks at Armin’s grave marker head on. _Commander Armin Arlert,_ it reads, _Savior of Humanity. Birthdate, deathdate._ Jean had chosen not to give personal details, after all, those that knew Armin know everything not written on the headstone.

“Don’t worry about me forgetting how to be happy. You’re the one that taught me in the first place, and I could never forget a single thing I learned from you.”

He kisses his hand and touches it to the headstone. “Until tomorrow, my love.”

Jean stands, calling Iris to him. He approaches the carriage the as the headmistress from the orphanage helps the children down, she addresses him as _Mr. Arlert._ Iris approaches the carriage and immediately starts sniffing at the children, her tail wags.

A breeze blows across the field on an otherwise still day. No one would say it was anything but a gentle wind, but Jean knows it’s the caress of his lover. Armin is everywhere, so long as Jean remembers him. It is for him, that Jean carries on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Beyonce said it best, "I ain't sorry."
> 
> I knew for months that Armin would die and I looked forward to writing that scene, but even I didn't know how much it would hurt to watch them come so close. Victims of the universe, creators of their reality. I even considered changing it, I really did, but that wasn't the story I wanted to tell. I think the story is better this way.
> 
> Flens, you might find it interesting to know that the scene with Jean riding the horse through the forest with Armin's ashes was originally the opening scene. My original intent had been to do a circular narrative where we started at the close of the story and the final written scene would have been Armin's death. Originally there was no epilogue to Armin's death, but I realized that was too cruel.
> 
> Thank you for reading! If you liked this story please acknowledge that it took my five months to write and consider leaving a comment. Kudos are appreciated, but comments are what make writer produce content!
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](cunttwatula.tumblr.com), and if you liked my writing, but decidedly need something where Armin doesn't die check out my [archive](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mindlessadri/works). I promise neither Armin or Jean die in my other Jearmin works.


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